Our minds
by Bluestarshine
Summary: Nicholas Brody is a prisoner. He is a prisoner of the mind, his own cruel mind, and there is no escape from the grief and the misery which consumes his soul - but it does not consume his heart for his heart is hers, and only hers, and for as long as he shall exist it shall never, and could never, belong to another.


**Disclaimer: Homeland is copyright to Howard Gordon, Alex Gansa and Gideon Raff. I claim nothing. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made**

* * *

The silence surrounds Nicholas Brody.

The darkness locks him in, the emptiness engulfs him and the loneliness consumes him.

The pain stays with him, never faltering, easing up, or leaving him.

The silence is haunting, it is almost as dreadful and unbearable as the pain itself.

The blood is sticky, its stench floats through the air, and it drips off of him, stays on him, remains with him always for even if he tried, and he does so desperately try, he could never truly remove these bloody reminders of what he has done.

It destroys him.

He's locked in, caged in, and he's trapped.

There is no escape, no relief. The blood pools around his feet and pours from gashes that appear and disappear, on his body, in seconds.

His head threatens to spilt open, it aches like his broken heart; his heart which has been torn into pieces, shredded, and almost entirely destroyed.

Only the tiniest shred remains and it remains for her.

He can't remember her voice. He can't even remember his own but that doesn't bother him nearly as much, he doesn't need or want to hear his own voice. His mouth opens but no words come out.

He is torn, thrown around, his body is jarred at by sharp objects, the gleam of silver shines in the darkness.

There is no light here.

She is his light, she was once his beacon of hope, but she is gone and so to is the light which followed her.

His heart aches at the thought of her. He tries to imagine her laughter, her smile, or what it felt to hold her in his arms, to kiss her, to simply be in her presence.

He walks emptily, on a road which he is not familiar with and leads him nowhere.

He prays that his feet will somehow lead him toward her, away from his demons and the darkness which is always present.

He waits in agony, for the day she will return to him.

But she never returns, and his feet never lead him to her.

He walks in darkness only, no light, no love, no colour.

He can almost picture the colour of her beautiful eyes, or her golden curls, or her pink lips. But he can only almost picture them, he never sees them clearly. The darkness taunts him with fragments of memories but never the memory itself.

He feels trapped, like iron bars surround him. He is trapped. He feels like he has been chained; he feels weighed down, like metal chains are constantly pulling and tearing at his flesh, bruising and cutting him, and throughout all of it he thinks of her.

He feels like shouting out in to the darkness, screaming at it to take him, asking why it puts him through such misery.

His existence is filled with misery and emptiness.

He is deserving of this, for all that he has done. He knows this but this doesn't make him want the darkness, it doesn't make the emptiness easier to accept, it doesn't numb the pain which never ceases.

He cannot sleep here, despite that his mind and body are exhausted.

There is no rest for the wicked.

Sometimes, if he's lucky enough he'll catch a whisper of her voice, a fragment of her laugh, and he'll cling to it with desperation.

But all attempts at finding a reminder are wastes because they aren't real, she isn't real, and he can never find the truth.

Time doesn't appear to pass him by at all.

He isn't able to differentiate between the seconds that pass and the excruciating days that drag on.

He survives but it isn't surviving, it isn't living.

He is dying in his own mind, trapped, and he cannot break free, he cannot find a cure for his insanity.

He often gives up, losing all strength, but even giving up does not work. He isn't able to sleep, for sleep never takes him, and he cannot rest as his mind will not allow him such a luxury.

Gone are the days she was with him.

Gone is the light.

Gone is the world.

For she is his world and without her he does not exist, he cannot exist, for she is his light, his love, and the heart which beats in his chest for he only exists as she does.

She exists eternally, in soft yellow light, he dreams of her this way when he is able to find a picture, form an image, of her light curls, her soft eyes, her kind smile.

He is lost for eternity, for as long as his mind wishes it to be this way, for as long as he is without her.

Nicholas Brody is a prisoner; a prisoner of the darkness, of his misery, of the pain, and he is a prisoner of the mind – his own mind.

There is no escape, no way he believes he can return to her, to who he was, to reality, but there is an ending.

He finds his ending eventually and as he nears it he finds her, sees her, catches her and holds her hands tightly, hot tears fall on his cheeks as he holds her and as she takes him to his ending he smiles.

He is free with her, as it was always destined to be.

* * *

_A/N:_

_A Brody & Carrie one-shot, not really based on specific events but rather focused on Brody and his mind.  
I'm not particularly sure whether I like this one but I finished it, and thought I'd update it on here..  
I hope that you enjoy it, regardless of what I think, and please do let me know your thoughts if you have any.  
Thank you for reading._

_I apologise for any spelling errors, and I do hope that there are none._

X


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